ARRIVAL OF THE LONDONERS AT RIBTON MARCHES.
If the expulsion of our first parents from the Garden of Eden was a depressing business, what can be said of the final expulsion of the Emperor and Empress from Ribton Marches? It took place very early on the Monday morning. Originally they had been going overnight, but the Empress had so implored her husband to allow her to have one last Sunday night in the old home that he had not the necessary strength to refuse her, although, according to the strict letter of the agreement come to between him and Mr. Rodney, the palace belonged to Mrs. Verulam from the Monday to the Saturday inclusive.
At earliest dawn, then, behold the wretched couple "on the move," in terrible agitation having their last pet chattels placed reverently by menials in their trunks, in fearful confusion hastily gathering together any little things likely to be of solace to them in the period of excruciating exile that lies before them. The Emperor, now the moment of departure had actually arrived, was in a boiling passion. Steam might almost have been seen escaping from him as he gave directions to his servants, and laid a thousand last injunctions upon Mr. Harrison, who, rendered almost impotent by having had to get up from bed in that dead hour which precedes the rising of the sun, received them with a grievous courtesy and the bending knees that so plainly betoken the deepest dejection of the human soul.
"Mr. Harrison!" shouted the Emperor.
"Sir!" replied that wretched functionary.
"Remember they are not to feed the parrots. On no account are they to tamper with Mrs. Lite's favourites."
"Certainly not, sir."
"If you see any symptom of a desire to do anything of that kind, you are to check it, Mr. Harrison."